Starry Night
by WickedForGood13
Summary: Two conversations, on two separate occasions, between the Doctor and Amy, set under a clear and starry night. Rated T for mentions of cutting.
1. Chapter 1

Amelia Pond was tired of waiting. The Doctor's "five minutes" had turned into ten years, and there hadn't been any flashing blue light, no sound of airplanes flying overhead, nothing to indicate that he was coming back for her. Amy had honestly thought that the Doctor had been different. After all, he'd said that he wasn't like other people. And Amy – silly, foolish Amelia Pond, the girl with the fairytale name – had believed him. But she'd been wrong to trust him, for he'd been _exactly_ like everyone else – a disappointment. He'd let her down, and since then, she'd vowed to never let anyone get close to her again. But the Doctor – whether imaginary or not – had been special, and Amy continued to cling to her faith in him. Every Easter night, she would go outside and wait for her Raggedy Doctor to appear. But he never did. There were times when she wondered if she really _had_ just made him up – the figment of a lonely child's imagination. Then there were times when she knew – without a shadow of a doubt – that he'd been real, and that he'd sat in her very kitchen eating fish fingers and custard. The truth of the matter, though, was that Amy didn't know what to think. So, she waited – for what, she didn't know.

It was Easter once again, and Amy was settling down for a camp-out in her backyard, something she'd done every year since she was seven. Though she was seventeen now, Amy refused to let go of this particular tradition in case it brought the Doctor back to her. And for that to happen, Amy was willing to do or go through anything, which she nearly had, as over the years she had had to endure countless bullying and teasing as a result of her declaration that a man with a blue box had crash landed in her backyard and that she'd taken him in and fed him. Because of the Doctor, Amy went through psychiatrists the way her peers went through electronic gadgets. Nevertheless, Amy couldn't find it in herself to blame the Doctor. See, over the years, she had begun to fancy him. As such, she couldn't hold anything against him. Despite the pain he had caused her, both physically and emotionally, Amy knew – in the deep recesses of her heart – that she would forgive him the moment she saw him again. Oh, she'd make him _think_ that she was mad. But when all was said and done, she'd forgive him. And she wouldn't even make him get down on his knees and beg. Well, not much, anyway.

The night's frigid air hardly fazed Amy, used as she was to the icy glares of her aunt and anyone else she was forced to associate with. She tugged the sleeves of her leather jacket further down her arms in an effort to hide the scars that littered her pale skin – a constant reminder that the Doctor hadn't left her completely unscathed. Desperate to control some aspect of her life, Amy had turned to self-harm as a way to feel something other than the ever-present numbness that threatened to weigh her down whenever she thought too long about the Doctor's continued absence. The pain that came with slicing through her skin – and the blood that would ooze down her arms and stain her skin as red as the shirt she was so fond of wearing – sent a fire racing through her veins and brought her a feeling of satisfaction, even though she knew that the Doctor would disapprove. Her rebuttal to such an argument was that he wasn't there, so she was free to do as she pleased. This didn't completely assuage the guilt, but her excuse was that she'd only been fourteen when she'd started. School had been too much for her that day – the taunting by her peers had been positively brutal – and she'd come home desperate for an escape. She'd found it in a razor one of her aunt's 'acquaintances' had left out, and since then, she'd never looked back.

"Oh, Doctor," she murmured to the night sky, which was dotted with stars that supposedly formed constellations, but which had never made much sense to her. "I miss you. I need you. Where are you, Doctor?"

"I'm right here, Amelia," said a voice to her left.

Her breath caught in her throat as she cautiously turned her head in the direction of that oh, so familiar and welcoming voice. "Doctor," she gasped, before flinging herself at him.

The Doctor deftly caught her in his arms, crushing her to his chest. "Hello, Pond," he murmured into her auburn locks.

The pair stayed locked in their embrace for many minutes. At long last, though, they forced themselves to pull away, instantly missing the sense of security that came with being in the other's arms.

"Based on your reaction," the Doctor said, breaking the silence that had settled over them, "and your appearance," he added, eyes roving over her body, "I'd guess that I've been a bit more than five minutes. How late am I?"

"Ten years," Amy whispered, taking none of the pleasure she had thought she would in the guilt she knew he would surely feel at learning the truth.

"And you've been waiting all that time?" The Doctor was incredulous that anyone would think he was worth the bother.

Wordlessly, Amy nodded.

"Amelia Pond, the girl who waited," he whispered, leaning over to press a kiss to her brow and bestowing her with a new nickname. "You don't have to wait anymore, my mad, impossible Amy Pond. I'll never leave you alone again – I promise."

"I would wait forever for you, Doctor," she revealed. "You'd be worth it."

A beat of silence followed, during which the Doctor did his best not to show how much Amy's simple faith moved him. "Well, I'm here now," he replied at last, gently squeezing her shoulder.

"And for that, I'm glad," she said, snuggling further in towards his body so that she was practically resting on top of him.

His arm wrapping around her instinctively, they turned their heads upwards to gaze at the heavens – together, as they'd always been meant to be.

Soon, though, the Doctor became impatient to learn what his Amelia had been doing with herself while he'd been gone. He propped himself up with one arm and shifted to face Amy, only to find her rubbing at her arms as though she were cold and attempting to get the blood circulating again. This action alone was not what alarmed him. No, what terrified him like nothing ever had before were the seemingly endless scars that crisscrossed her wrists, and, he suspected, her upper arms as well.

"Amelia, what have you done?" he asked, tone solemn to indicate his displeasure and horror at the notion that the little girl with the fairytale name he'd first met had been driven to _this_. He had yet to examine exactly _why_ she would feel the need to harm herself, but he dreaded her answer, fearing that he was to blame.

Startled, Amy's head snapped to the side and met the Doctor's eyes, which seemed to have aged significantly since she'd last looked.

"I-I ..." she stuttered nervously, afraid of saying the wrong thing and incurring the Doctor's wrath.

"Amy," said the Doctor intensely, gripping her wrists and bringing them towards his chest for a closer look. What he saw ... he couldn't even begin to describe how he felt at seeing Amy's arms covered with scars, some white and fading, some an angry red, all of them many years old. "How long has this been going on?"

"Three years," Amy whispered at last, closing her eyes to escape the Doctor's sure-to-be disappointed expression.

"And why would you feel the need to do _this_?" he continued, holding her arms up to the moonlight to emphasize his point.

"I was alone," Amy cried, her outburst surprising them both. "I was alone," she said again, more brokenly this time. "I didn't have anyone. No friends, no family, no one who believed my stories of a madman with a blue box who ate fish fingers and custard. They all thought I was crazy, and that I made you up. If anyone _did_ pay attention to me, it was to tease me – cruel, hateful words against us both. Eventually, my resistance wore down, so much so that when I found a razor one of my aunt's 'acquaintances' had left out, I cut. It felt good, so I cut again – and I've been doing it ever since. It gave me a release and let me actually _feel_ something."

"Amelia, my Amelia," the Doctor murmured sadly, hardly knowing where to start in all he wanted to do to comfort her.

"I'm not _yours_," she hissed angrily, shifting within his arms to face him. "And I go by Amy now."

"Why?" The Doctor was momentarily confused. "Amelia was a brilliant name."

"A bit too fairytale, don't you think?" she shot back at him.

The Doctor winced. He deserved that – he deserved so much worse. He deserved for all her barbs to be dipped in poison and for there to be no cure.

"I don't suppose 'sorry' would begin to make up for what I've done to you and what I've made you do?"

"Not even close," Amy replied. "But you shouldn't blame yourself. I'm my own person, and anything I did or didn't do was my own choice. It's not like you cut me yourself. I did that – it was all me, everything that's happened in the past ten years. You are _not_ to blame."

The Doctor shook his head, chuckling slightly, in wonder at how Amy could go from accusing him one minute to reassuring him the next. She was a mystery, that one, a mystery he couldn't seem to make sense of.

"Amy," was all he could say as he held her, gently patting her back and stroking her hair as soothingly as he could. "I'm _sorry_. I know that doesn't even begin to cover it, but that's all I can say at this time. That – and I will never let you down again, I swear."

Amy took a shaky breath, her body trembling from the many emotions she was currently experiencing. "I believe you," she whispered, so softly that the Doctor had to strain his ears to catch the lovely cadence of her voice.

"Thank you," he whispered, blessing whatever higher power there was that Amy thought him worthy of her.

Throughout their discussion, the Doctor had been cradling Amy in his arms, balancing her body on top of his own. Now, though, he released her, and they returned to their original positions, with his arm about her shoulders as she lay tucked in to his side.

"Pick a star," he said suddenly, "Any star, and I'll take you there. With all of time and space at our disposal, where do you want to start?"

Amy turned to face him, and the Doctor was momentarily dazzled by the hope – however tentative it might have been – that he saw in her eyes.

"What?" she whispered breathlessly, hardly daring to believe that the Doctor meant what she thought he meant.

"Come with me," he demanded, desperate to always keep her with him. Watching Amy, he recognized the moment that understanding dawned and she realized that his earlier statement was an invitation for her to join him on his travels. His hearts broke at the notion that _his_ Amelia could have ever felt as he often did – alone. He made a vow, then and there, to do all in his power to make up for what his absence had cost her. "I want you ... I-I _need_ you – please," he said softly, begging her to let him fix what he seemed to have broken – her faith in love.

"Okay," she whispered, letting out a shaky breath as the enormity of what she'd just agreed to hit her.

"Thank you," he replied, leaning over to press a kiss to her brow – only he missed, for Amy had been turning her head at the exact same moment, causing their lips to end up meeting instead. There was a moment where neither reacted, not know how to respond, until, as if of its own accord, the Doctor's hand moved to cup her cheek, pulling her body closer to him.

And then – oh, how the sparks flew.

Later, Amy would swear there had been an explosion behind her eyelids. She saw stars, fireworks, every cliché that could be applied to a first kiss. Every nerve ending felt as if it were on fire ... every pressure point ... every part of her body that was in contact with the Doctor – she'd never felt anything like it before. If this was love, then she wanted more.

All of a sudden, though, there was a blinding white light that seemed to surround them. As it drew nearer, Amy felt the Doctor slipping away from her. Desperately, she reached for him and held on for all she was worth.

"What's happening, Doctor?" she cried out in alarm.

"Amy Pond," the Doctor said urgently. "I'll be back, remember that – I will _always_ come back for you. Don't forget me. Whatever happens, hold on to your faith and never let go."

"I promise," she whispered, and then the Doctor was gone, consumed by the light that, strangely enough, resembled the crack in her bedroom wall.

* * *

><p>With a start, Amy woke up, a cry of despair already half-formed on her lips. Shaking off the depression and melancholy that had settled over her, she took in her surroundings and found that she was still in her backyard. She hadn't moved, and the Doctor hadn't come back.<p>

_Someday,_ she thought to herself, holding on to her faith in the Doctor just as he'd asked her to, in what she now knew had been a dream, or had perhaps been a visitation of sorts (Amy wouldn't put it past the Doctor to cross his own timeline to let her know that he was on his way). _Someday, my prince will come, and we'll ride off into the sunset – together, as it's always been meant to be._

Until then, Amy decided, she could be patient. Even if it killed her, she would continue to wait for the Doctor and the happy ending that they _both_ deserved.


	2. Chapter 2

Amelia Pond's patience had paid off. Two years after the vision she'd had when she was seventeen, the Doctor had come back for her, just like he'd promised. The time in-between, though, had been difficult for Amy. Having seen the Doctor in her dreams, surprisingly, had made it harder for her to carry on. Though she'd initially held out hope that his return wouldn't be long in coming, her hope soon began to dwindle as the days turned into weeks and then months. She became even more of a recluse, and began to cut more too. She devoted herself to her schoolwork – though why, she still didn't know. For something to do, she supposed. She had trouble sleeping, thoughts of the Doctor keeping her awake. The resulting circles under her eyes made her look like a raccoon. She wasn't living, merely existing. She was a shell of the person she had been. When the Doctor finally fulfilled his promise to come back for her, tears had been shed and accusations were tossed around – but all was forgiven in the end. Now they were exploring the cosmos, creating new memories to erase those that Amy had collected over the years she'd spent pining for the Doctor.

On first being brought aboard the TARIDS, Amy had demanded an explanation as to what exactly had happened two years before. The Doctor had praised her brilliance and told her that she was right to guess that what she'd seen had been a visitation of sorts. Having sensed that he might be late, as was often the case with him, his spirit had crossed the dimensions of time and space to let her know that all was not lost – the Doctor was coming for her, as he always would. He now assured her that what she'd seen had been absolutely real, and that she had no cause to doubt her sanity. Though Amy wondered about the kiss they had shared, the Doctor didn't mention it, so she followed his lead and remained silent, choosing, instead, to wrap her arms around him and hold on tight, savoring the feel of having him return her embrace just as enthusiastically, something else she never thought she would get to experience.

Eventually, though, they were forced to pull apart, as there were other important matters to attend to – namely, fixing Amy. The Doctor whisked her off to the medical bay, where he procured a miraculous cream that would cause her scars to disappear. Once that had been taken care of, the Doctor escorted Amy to the kitchen, where he proceeded to fill her stomach with strange and wonderful foods, some alien, others not. After that, he showed her to her room – the best the TARDIS had ever provided one of his companions with – and ordered her to sleep for as long as she felt was necessary. That first night, the Doctor kept a vigil outside her door, remembering other companions and how disoriented they would become when they realized that they weren't in their own room at home. He needn't have worried about Amy, though – she settled right in. And the very next day, they were off having adventures – together, as they had always been meant to be.

That was two years ago, Amy's time. Since then, she and the Doctor had seen and done many great and terrible things. Currently, they had landed somewhere in the countryside on Earth, in the middle of a series of gently rolling hills, which was sure to be relaxing – just what the Doctor had ordered. Since the pair's last harrowing ordeal, he felt that they needed a break from the constant running that his job seemed to require. After parking the TARDIS with its usual screech of the brakes, he told Amy to stay where she was and not move while he got everything ready. Hurrying to and fro, he gathered up a blanket and a basket before darting outside. Soon enough, he was back, exuberantly bouncing on the balls of his feet. Amy couldn't help but chuckle at the picture he made – a young child eagerly waiting to show his parents his latest accomplishment.

"Come with me," he said, holding out his hand for her to take.

Crossing the distance between the console, which she'd been standing by, and him, she interlaced their fingers together in a habit that had become as natural as breathing. Laughing, as he dragged her down the stairs and towards the doors, she was surprised when he swiveled in place and halted, blocking her progress with his body.

"Close your eyes," he whispered demandingly.

Amy obeyed without question, as she did with all things Doctor-related. She trusted him implicitly and would always follow where he led. She sensed movement behind her an instant before a pair of hands clapped over her eyes, furthering ensuring that she wouldn't be able to see whatever it was he had in store for her. Now blinded, she let the Doctor guide her movements, recognizing the moment that they stepped outside as the evening's cool air gently caressed her flushed cheeks.

"Can I look?" she asked, patience having only applied to waiting for the Doctor while in Leadworth. This – what they were doing now – didn't count.

"Not yet," he replied, and Amy could hear the smile in his voice.

Taking baby steps to ensure that neither one tripped, Amy allowed her hands to hang limply at her sides, secretly enjoying the Doctor's mysterious behavior. Even after two years of traveling together, she had yet to figure him out completely.

"Alright – now," the Doctor breathed in her ear, removing his hands dramatically and allowing Amy to take in the scene before them on her own.

Amy gasped. She'd never seen anything like it – and that was saying something, considering who she was with. They were indeed nestled among a series of gently rolling hills. That alone would have been amazing. But what had struck Amy dumb was the sight of the fireflies that were hovering above the grass, and the stars flickering above in time to the fireflies' rhythm. A blanket was spread across the ground, a picnic basket lying half-open with its content threatening to spill out. For added effect, there were candles lighting their way from the TARDIS to the blanket and the food.

"Doctor ..." her voice trailed off in wonder.

"What do you think?" he asked, almost worriedly, for fear of his surprise being a disappointment.

In response, she threw her arms enthusiastically around him and held on tight, just as she had all those years before in her dreams – only _this_ time, he wasn't about to disappear again.

"Thank you," she whispered. "This is just what I needed. As do you, I imagine."

The Doctor smiled sheepishly. His mad, impossible Amy Pond had always been able to read him better than anyone else. "Yeah, well," he shrugged. "You know how it is – you get so caught up in saving the universe that you forget to take time for yourself."

"And that's what we're here for, right?" Amy probed.

"Yes, Amy, that's what we're here for," the Doctor confirmed, features softening as he met the concerned gaze of his companion. There was so much more he wanted to say – so much more he had planned (and he never planned) – but he let silence fall, at least for the moment.

At the insistent tugging on his hand, he let himself be pulled through the maze the candles formed and towards their final destination – the blanket, but more importantly, the food.

"Should I be worried, Doctor?" Amy asked teasingly, referring to the last time he'd attempted to cook and had almost exploded the kitchen. Luckily, she had come along just in time, and the only thing wounded was the Doctor's pride.

"Very funny, Pond," the Doctor grumbled, pouting slightly.

Amy just laughed. Neither took the other's barbs at face value – that was just the way they were. "Do you ever eat anything besides fish fingers and custard?" she asked on noticing what the Doctor had in his hands.

"Yes, when the situation calls for it. Did I ever tell you about the time I was in Sherwood Forest, robbing from the rich to give to the poor, and a band calling themselves the "Merry Men" started following me?"

"Wait – do you mean to say that _you_ were Robin Hood? Please tell me you didn't wear that ridiculous bow-tie."

"Of course I was Robin Hood, Pond. Keep up, why don'tcha? And no, I didn't wear what you deem to be my 'ridiculous' bow-tie. I was forced to wear lincoln green, as camouflage for our surroundings. But believe-you-me, it certainly wasn't _my_ idea."

Eyes wide, hardly daring to blink, Amy listened with rapt attention as the Doctor wove a tale about bandits being pursued by aliens beneath the leafy foliage of the greenwood.

"That's amazing, Doctor," she exclaimed once he had finished. "You never miss an opportunity to play the hero, do you?"

"The people were in trouble and needed help. I stepped in and offered what assistance I could – nothing more, nothing less."

At hearing this, Amy brought the Doctor's hand to her lips, pressing a light kiss to the knuckles. "That's one of the reasons I love traveling with you, Doctor – aside from the adventure, you never think about us, only about how you can better the lives of the civilizations that we visit."

No words were needed – understanding flowed between Doctor and companion. As one, they lay on their backs, looking up at the twinkling stars above them.

Amy's thoughts began to drift, scenes from their most recent exploit flashing through her mind:

"_Trust me, I'm the Doctor," he said, before whirling to face their opponents, deftly thrusting Amy behind him where she'd hopefully be safe. He wasn't able to protect her, though. As they fell through the air, he reached for her, pulling her body flush against his. "Hold on tight," he ordered, even as he felt her hands grip his arms with a surprising amount of strength for one so young._

_They ran – always with the running – searching for a way out of wherever they were. Hands tightly clasped, Amy was sure she must have been cutting off the Doctor's blood circulation, but he wasn't complaining, just pulling her along behind him. If anything, Amy suspected him of running slower than he would were he on his own – for her sake. She hated him for it, but she loved him too._

_Reaching a dead end, the Doctor pulled out his only weapon – the sonic screwdriver. Side-by-side, hands still joined, they made their stand together, ready to face what was coming head-on. As their would-be captors appeared, the Doctor took aim, before blasting their guns out of their hands. Once the aliens' weapons had been dispatched, he turned his mind back to the task of getting them out. Pointing his screwdriver at the wall they'd previously had their backs to, he managed to create an opening for them to climb through and which would, hopefully, lead them home._

_But their luck soon ran out. Although successful in reaching the surface, one of the rebel forces had survived and was lying in wait for them. Too late did the Doctor see, and so was unable to pull Amy out of harm's way. Disregarding the gun in its hands, the alien soldier's claws sliced through Amy's clothes, raking her back. As Amy gave a sudden cry of pain, the Doctor forgot all reason – forgot, even, what he stood for – and attacked, making quick work of the alien rebel._

"_Don't. Touch. My. Girl," he hissed, enunciating each word as he stood, shaking with rage, over the dying creature. Without another word, he made his way to where Amy had fallen and was curled up in a ball. Carefully – ever so tenderly – he picked her up bridal-style, doing his best to avoid touching her back. "Hey," he whispered, willing Amy to open her eyes and look at him, which she soon did. "Gotcha!" She smiled once, before promptly passing out._

_Cursing under his breath, the Doctor made his way inside the TARDIS and hurried to install Amy in the medical bay. Getting lost in his work, he applied ointments and creams at a frantic pace. The alien's claws had injected a low-level poison into Amy's bloodstream that he had to try and head off. He only let himself relax once the machine Amy was hooked up to gave a beep to indicate that she was stable. Breathing a sigh of relief, he pulled up a chair and prepared to wait for Amy to wake up._

_Left to his own devices, he soon began to picture every situation they'd ever been in that had put Amy in danger. Again, he cursed his selfishness for bringing her along, for uprooting her from her life on Earth. He determined, then and there, to take her back, even though he knew he probably wouldn't. Mainly because Amy herself would object, but also because he never wanted to see Amy leave, and the only way he'd return her to Leadworth would be if she asked him to._

"_Hey," he heard. Looking up, he found Amy's eyes locked on him, a fierce expression on her face. "You better not be thinking what I think you're thinking. I am NOT going back to Leadworth, Doctor – never! Do you hear me?"_

"_Loud and clear, Pond. And trust me, I wouldn't dream of it," he said, even though his last statement was a lie, and they both knew it. Smiling reassuringly, he approached her bedside and bent to press a kiss to her forehead, thus missing the look of disappointment that crossed Amy's face, who had hoped he was going to kiss her properly. Flustered by their proximity, the Doctor pulled away and said, "I'll be back," before hurrying off to meddle with some wires and clear his head._

_Before long, things were back to normal on the TARDIS. Amy healed with hardly a trace left over from the encounter and the Doctor was back to his usual playful self. In place of taking Amy back to Leadworth, he determined that they needed a vacation. Entering the coordinates for Planet Earth, he decided to make their trip a night that Amy would never forget for as long as she lived. And if that meant confessing his feelings, then so be it._

"Penny for your thoughts, Pond," the Doctor whispered, interrupting her internal musings.

"Oh, nothing important," she replied breezily, for if the Doctor knew what she had _really_ been thinking, he would become broody again and sulk around the TARDIS as if the world were coming to an end.

"Traveling with me is dangerous, Amy," he said suddenly, taking a wild (but correct) guess that Amy had been thinking of their previous adventure – and its end-result.

"I know," she replied.

"_I'm_ dangerous," he continued, almost hoping she would want to go back to boring-but-_safe_ Leadworth then and there to save him the agony that came with continually risking her health just for the sake of keeping them together.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" Amy countered.

The Doctor closed his eyes momentarily. _That_ _you are, however much I wish it were otherwise. No matter my own pain, if you left, that would mean you were safe – and that's all I've ever wanted for you._

"Penny for your thoughts, Doctor," Amy said, turning the tables, for once, and interrupting _his_ internal musings.

"I have something to tell you," he said at last.

"I'm listening," she said as she rolled on to her side so that they were facing each other, giving him her full attention.

"Amy," he began, reaching out to cup her cheek, only to withdraw his hand at the last moment. "Amy," he tried again.

"What is it, Doctor? You can tell me – I'm not going to judge."

"A-Amy," he stuttered, nerves on edge at the fear of being rejected.

"Whatever it is surely can't be _that_ bad," Amy reasoned. "What do you want to tell me?"

"Actually, I'd rather show you," the Doctor said, finally finding some hidden reserve of courage left over from a bygone age.

"Show me what?" asked Amy confusedly.

"_This_," the Doctor whispered.

With that, he leaned over and connected their lips, Amy responding instantly. After all, she'd only waited four years for this particular dream to come true. Though the Doctor tried to keep their first kiss sweet and simple, Amy was determined that they would use this opportunity to make up for lost time. She sucked at his lips, nipping and pecking. And when their tongues finally collided, it was a battle like no other.

Pulling away for air, Amy smiled up at him. "Why, Doctor, what brought that on?" she asked cheekily.

The Doctor, who had gone from lying next to Amy to crouching over her, pressed their foreheads together. "When I finally came back for you, Amy, neither of us was ready for a relationship at that time. You were still recovering from my abandonment, and I was adjusting to finally being reunited with you. These two years together have been wonderful, and have convinced me that I've waited long enough – we _both_ have. Amy, I want this – I want _you_."

Amy couldn't seem to stop smiling. No, she was beaming – she outshone the moon up above. The Doctor had finally seen what she had known all along – they were meant to be. There was no question of her turning down what the Doctor was offering her – his hearts on a silver platter. He was right – they had both waited long enough.

"I want this – and you – too, Doctor," she replied. "I _love_ you. I have for a while now."

"I love you too, Amelia Pond," he whispered. And the way he said her name – like a promise, but so much more, at the same time – made her shiver in anticipation. Though she didn't know and she didn't care what was coming, as long as she had her Doctor – and he had her – they would survive.


End file.
